Remotes, Roomies and Tingly Feelings are for Wade
by MissPoisonedAddiction1
Summary: When Wade's new Roomie-Rogue-finds herself settling down to watch New Moon, Wade loses his cool. Because that stuff does NOT go down.
1. Remotes, Roomies and Tingly Feelings

_**Note: Rogue is wearing a bracelet that puts her powers on hold.**_

**_I do not own X-Men. At all._**

He noticed just in time that she was wearing the silver chain around her wrist, and leaped at her with such agility and grace, he'd make a jungle cat stumble.

He reached for the remote, got an elbow to the face.

"NO!" she yelled above the noise.

"Jacob's about to confess!" Rogue cries, and it amazes him how she can have her eyes planted firmly on the screen, but still manage to get the remote _just _out of his reach.

Wade was about to lose his shit. No seriously, he was. He was _not _going to put up with fictional wolves and sparkly douche-bags, just because she was his roomie.

That's where he drew the line.

He managed to get enough room to pull back, and quickly escaped from a headlock that would have snapped his neck. He lunges for her again, and this time her eyes meet his and she squeals.

_The fuck?_

That doesn't stop his awesome ninja-like skills, though, and with the forward momentum, and his current position he's going to land right between her—

Her fist meets his jaw with an audible crack, and this sends him a good three feet backwards.

She stands, remote held tightly to her chest, where his head would have landed, right between those legal breasts—He silently thanks god her birthday was last week, otherwise this shit would have gotten him killed.

"You can have it back in a damn minute, I just want to see what happens." Rogue growls, and sits down, folding her legs underneath her. It hits him, right now.

She sits on _his _recliner, takes a sip of his _bourbon_, and is clutching _his _damn remote.

It is _on_.

* * *

She's cradling her wrist, and hopping around the room.

"Damn it, hold still!" he tells her, trying to reach for her. She dances out of his way, glares at him.

"I can't believe you threw a chair at me." She says with a snarl, and moans slightly in pain. He rolls his eyes.

"It barely hit you."

"It broke on my damn wrist!" she yells and he blocks his ears like a child, too many words, too loud. God damn this girl.

The chair—the wooden one from the kitchen—is in splinters, and a few big chunks lay around on the carpet, but it was the least he could have done to her, he figures.

Besides, his blades are getting sharpened. She's lucky that's _all _he's done.

"I've killed people for less." He tells her and finally catches her by the waist, yanks her close, and lifts her arm, examining her wrist with gentle fingers, and she winces as he touches a bump.

A freakin' bump, for Christ's sakes.

"No big deal." He murmurs, and she notices his eyes—and he tries to look impassive—but with her, it never works. She smiles, well almost smirks.

"You were worried about me…"

"I threw a chair at you. You're a roomie—you also make one hell of a snack." He mumbles, and she grins, leans forward and presses a _kiss _to his cheek.

He stares at her incredulously.

"What the fuck was that for?" he asks after a minute of silence—which is very fucking unusual for him.

"For letting me take this" she lifts the bottle of bourbon in front of him. He wonders how this girl got so sly.

She turns, travels upstairs before he can say anything else.

"God damn roomie" he curses, and his cheek is still freakin' _tingling _or some shit from that kiss.

He turns to follow her.

He's getting the bourbon back, and seeing if any other part of him can _tingle _with her lips.

**_End._**


	2. Rogue, Spooning and Cuddles

**_Note: Do not own X-Men, or any of the characters._**

Wade wakes up, and he's suddenly very aware of the warm thing beside him. He moves closer to it with a yawn, doesn't realize he's spooning whatever it is.

It's breathing. Whatever the hell it is, it's breathing.

His eyes snap open, and he blinks at the harsh sunlight with a curse. This earns him a small nudge in the ribs—an elbow? An arm. Marie… breasts. His mind can barely manage to put it all together at this moment in time, what with it being so damn early—12 AM is early for him, okay?—But he feels her thigh pressed against his own, blinks some more.

Then…

"What the fuck are you doing in my bed?"

She sits up, seems to notice where they are, her eyes go straight to the bracelet on her wrist and she sighs.

"What?"

"I said; the fuck are you doing in my bed?" he repeats, a little distracted by the way her breasts move with that wonderful intake of breath and yeah, his voice kind of wavers between annoyed and happy. She's wearing this thin shirt—and she's cold. She catches his gaze, smacks his head and he yelps.

"What the hell?"

_Kill me for looking, then.._

"As for your question, dummy, this is my room." She snaps, rolls over. And jeez, even her morning breath is _good_. He can't help but roll his eyes, rub a hand along her spine, under her shirt where her skin is so smooth—soft.

"Don't… Don't stop…" she whispers.

And damn morning wood.

He finds a rhythm to stroke her back with, and eventually she's asleep.

Morning wood is still present.

"That's it… If I'm awake, then she should be too. Damn roomie… How the hell did I even manage to fall asleep in her bed—fucking springs." he's traveling downstairs, his hand still warm from her flesh.

He looks over, and the tap is dripping.

Standing there, clad in white briefs and jeans, low on his hips, he get an idea.

"That'll work."

* * *

She's a heavy sleeper; he'll give her that. He gave her one warning—because he's that nice—and then promptly tipped the cup of water on her head. She jumped up so fast, and punched him so hard he would have been proud if his face didn't hurt.

Marie apologizes quickly, jumps off the bed and rushes to his side.

Damn roomie has got a mean right hook. And right now she looks like she regrets it.

"You okay?" she asks softly, and he looks at her—really looks at her.

Her hair falls in mahogany waves around her face, the streaks almost the same, and her eyes are all soft, lips parted quizzically at his look. He glimpses downward, almost drops his jaw because the shirt is _see through_.

"You look like you could use a cuddle…" she says, and this gets his attention back to her face. Before he can ask what the hell a cuddle is, she wraps her arms around him, pulls him close and holds him gently. He's got this warm feeling coiling low in his stomach and figures this is_ nice_.

That's when she decides to knee him in the stomach, and run like hell.

He actually laughs, and stands.

Yeah. Rogue is really a Wade type of girl.

That doesn't stop him from running after her a few minutes later with a bucket of water.

"DON'T RUN!" he yells after she screams and narrowly escapes his range—and he kicks the broken chair in front of her, trips her. She lands on her stomach.

He dumps the water on her back, runs away from her swearing and yelling, and can't help but laugh like the maniac he really is, while catching some glances at her chest.

He's still got it.


	3. Cookies, Hello Kitty and Perfume

What the fuck is he awake for?

Seriously, it's three in the morning, and he has those types of cravings like a pregnant woman or something.

_Why do I feel like cookies? I must be loosing my bad ass-ness._

But that didn't stop him from stumbling down the steps into the kitchen, and as he rubbed his eyes, and they found Marie standing by the window with the lights off he nearly screamed.

_Bad ass-ness is definitely going down the fucking drain._

After shock came surprise. Because she was just standing there, in a singlet and her underwear.

"Whatcha doin' up?" she asks without turning, eyes staring out into the ink of dark outside, and yeah, he stares at her ass.

He licks his dry lips, rubs his head and blinks.

"I was going to ask you the same damn thing," he murmurs.

"Couldn't sleep," she says, turning to him.

_Is that…_

"Hello Kitty?" he asks aloud, and she doesn't blush, or cover up, just stares at him.

Should it be wrong to be turned on by Hello Kitty? It probably is, but she wears them like a damn pro or some shit.

His stomach growls, brings him back to his purpose and he looks through the cupboards, trying to find those Betty Cookies he had stashed somewhere. He takes the bag with him, turns and she's still staring at him, which is creepy.

"You're leaving tomorrow…" she states, rather then asks and he bites into a cookie, blinks.

"Oh, yeah. That. Slicing and dicing the bad guys, you know…" he shrugs impassively and she looks up at him through her bangs.

"I'll miss you…" she says, her eyes and voice soft, and he nearly misses his mouth. In the silence, which is really freakin' awkward, he can hear his own heartbeat. Or maybe its hers?

He blinks.

"You'll be okay" he says after a moment, turns to walk away.

"Wait" she says, that single word making him halt—and he really does just want to go back to sleep, and this damn body is being such a dick—and turn back to her.

"Why… Why did you let me stay?" she asks, and he kind of remembers that night when he was blind drunk, and she just happened to be close, and he hadn't had sex in like forever, so he asked her to come back to his place. And she had been underage so he just told her to go to his spare room, and then crashed in the kitchen.

And the next thing he knows he's got her here and she's beautiful, who makes him sandwiches and doesn't find it weird he likes to put flowers in skeletons as if they're flowers pots.

"Because" he says, thinking faintly as to where his balls have gone. "You're just a kid."

He looks down at her underwear for emphasis and then pivots on his heel and leaves before she can do anything else to his damn ego or some shit.

* * *

_It kind of sucks_, he thinks as he hefts the blade onto his shoulder, _being away from home again_. The poor loser in front of him is far beyond dead, and this simple little mission took less then half an hour. He wipes the blood off his forearm with a grimace, and for some stupid reason, he has this floral scent on him, and he wonders if it was there before.

"Oh, ew!" he manages, before his own fingers pry the ear off of his shoulder and throw it aimlessly anywhere.

And he shudders like a damn girl.

The floral scent is still on him.

And as he travels back the way he came, to the mouth of the alley-way, he finds himself staring at a little Japanese girl, her hair in pigtails. He blinks, thinks _where the fuck is this girls mother?_ And stares at the picture on her pink shirt and curses in several different languages because fuck it, he misses his girl, and her perfume is on him, and he's still staring at Hello Kitty.

* * *

He doesn't expect much when he gets home, but he comes up with all kinds of scenario's like:

He walks in, drops his swords, spreads his arms wide and says "Honey, I'm home"

Fuck that noise.

No seriously, he isn't like that, and he begins to start a conversation with himself.

"Hey, Rogue, look; I missed you, and that's fucked up because I'm a cruel bastard and I like my damn job, and I hate those fucking brownies you buy because they're dryer then a nuns… and I hate the smell of peppermint but you make it all better and somehow for some fucking unknown reason…" he trails off, stops.

"I like you." He finishes lamely, and then he's standing at the door of his own fucking house and is he _actually afraid to go inside?_

He finally sums up the courage with pep talk "Dude, this is your house. Who's house? Yours. And she's probably asleep. Just go in and tell her that you want her gone. Okay, you can do this, you've killed people for simpler reasons…"

And then the door is open, and he can hear the sound of Kenny Chesney filling the air, and the heady scent of—

"Oh shit" is all he can manage before he walks into the kitchen, finds her in a fucking Hello Kitty apron—where does she find this shit—baking cookies.

He's not fucking crying, he just has something in his eye.

_Badass-ness is totally fucking gone._

But it doesn't matter, because she turns, flashes him a smile and he's actually running in his own fucking house to get to her, wraps his arms around her and smells her perfume.

"I fucking missed you" he says in a whisper and she laughs.

"Cookies for Wade?" she says softly, and he buries his head deeper into the crook of her neck.

"Rogue for Wade" he mumbles, and then she's laughing and he doesn't fucking give a shit if anyone finds his sweet spot, because she understands him like no one else, and right now?

Roomie Rogue is definitely for fucking Wade.


End file.
